~~Group Therapy~~

~~~~1~~~~

Okay, since my last story crashed and burned, I'm gonna start anew! This story is about 7 mental patients who somehow find their way to each other. This story contains Reddie and Stenbrough. Maybe some Benverly. Enjoy!

Trigger Warning: The foundation of this book is mental disorders. I did research, so it's going to be in-depth. If you aren't comfortable, stop reading. There is also maybe some homophobic slurs.

Eddie's POV: "Jesus, this room is depressing." I mumble as I walk into a dark, moldy-smelling, small room with a 3-legged table in the middle. Variously sized chairs surround it, I count 12. I'm the 6th person to walk in, and I grab the only seat with nobody sitting next to me.

I scan the room, taking in the appearances of the people here. On my left, the closest person to me is a tall, brunette boy with blue eyes. He's wearing a white shirt with blue baseball sleeves. It looks like it should fit, but for some reason it's too big. Next to him is a blonde girl who's wearing way too much makeup. It looks like she's flirting with him, but he's not reciprocating her feelings. She looks fine. I wonder why she's here. Two seats over from them is a tall boy with shoulder length hair. It's the kind that looks almost black, but somehow you know it's just light enough to be brown. His chocolate coloured eyes are behind thick black glasses that almost swallow his face up. He's talking animatedly with his hands to a red haired girl who seems only half interested. She's picking at some invisible bit on her left hand. Her lips are slightly parted in a frown, she's clearly very concentrated on her hand. At the head of the table is a 30something man who's trying to set up a projector. A name tag sits in front of him. Rory Chan. Huh.

"Are we making those?" The brunette boy says, breaking me out of my daze. I quickly place my jacket on the seat left of me, trying not to care about how many germs these seats probably carry. I need to save this seat. After what seems like forever, a familiar face enters the room. I rip my jacket up, quickly putting it over my back. The barrier soothes my fears as my companion drops into the seat I'd been saving. His curls settle back into their seemingly wild places as he adjusts the table to his liking.

"Perfect." He mutters as he settles into his chair. 10 minutes pass, and a large, sweating boy enters with a fit, handsome black boy. A girl with short, wavy, brown hair scuttles in silently and sits beside me. I shuffle closer to my friend. Rory Chan finishes with the projector and removes the extra chairs from the table. He closes the door and resumes his seat.

"Welcome all, to our group. Coping with mental disorders. I'm going to hand out paper, please write your name. First and last, thanks." He stands up and starts handing out paper. Once I neatly write Eddie Kaspbrak on my paper, I look around to see what other people have written. My friend wrote Stanley Uris in his neat writing, the tall brunette wrote BIll Denbrough, the blonde girl wrote Taylor May, the boy with glasses put Richard Tozier, the hand picker scrawled Beverly Marsh, the large boy penned Ben Hanscom, the black boy jotted Mike Hanlon, and the shy girl wrote Natalie Thompson.

"Now, if everyone's comfortable, could you share why you're here?" I guess everybody takes this as "What's wrong with your head," because Richie immediately pipes up with "The name's Richie, and I have ADHD." Beverly looks up from her hand to speak next.

"Beverly, but you can call me Bev. I've got Body Dysmorphic Disorder." She looks over Ben, who blushes and stammers "B-Ben. Binge Eating Disorder." Mike immediately speaks next, clearly used to Ben's awkwardness.

"I'm Mike. I have depression." He looks over at Natalie, who pulls the sleeves of her sweater before admitting she has Bulimia Nervosa. Suddenly every eye is on me. I feel the familiar hitch of my breath, and my heart rate increases drastically. I shrink down in my seat, wanting to disappear. By some miracle, I am able to tell everyone that I have Anxiety Disorder, as if they can't tell. I wait for my heart rate to slow while Stan explains that he has OCD. I take a deep breath and listen as Bill states his Anorexia Nervosa. When Taylor speaks, everyone gawks. Not because she's "pretty," but because she says she has depression. Stan and I share a look, knowing she's one of the kids who pretend to have depression just to relate to their friends.

We play a stupid "Getting to know you" game, and all I find out is everyone here is mental. It's chaos. I'm forced to play, but it goes by in a blur of noise and terror. After that mess is over, Rory Chan claps his large hands.

"I'm going to hand out a journal to everyone, and your assignment is to write in it whenever you want to. This journal is your best friend. You can tell it anything. It's confidential. No one reads it but you. Got it?" 9 heads nod, and Rory Chan dismisses us for the week. 

(A/N: The random girls aren't going to mentioned much, I just didn't want it to be just the Losers. Also, Taylor was not meant to offend anyone. She's just supposed to be a shallow, skanky character who is only there for attention. Not discrediting anyone's feelings. Promise. The names were supposed to be in different fonts, but Wattpad hates me.)